


You Need a Mousy Date

by cheeserollcall



Category: Pinky and the Brain
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brain's mom is in the tags but not Pharfig what do you have against my girl, First Work Here, M/M, also this has references to Pinky being a tramp, but you can ignore it and it doesnt really affect anything, my boi so deep inside the closet he got to narnia, relatively nsfw-ish epilogue, this takes place at some point during the sea lion episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeserollcall/pseuds/cheeserollcall
Summary: Of course he didn't like Pinky that way. They were friends. Not even that, they were roommates. Associates. Acquaintances. But friends? Alright, maaaaybe. But more? Good Tesla, no.
Relationships: Brain/Pinky (Pinky and the Brain)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 216





	1. You Need a Mousy Date.

**Author's Note:**

> None of this would have ever happened without the help of my friends, my obsession with these lab mice and my own sad memories of unrequited love. And my beta reader who makes sure I'm making sense, and who in general inspired some of this (username Churb)

If he were to pinpoint the exact moment it all began, he… wouldn’t be able to. It wasn’t sudden, but it also wasn’t gradual. One day his friend had a new girlfriend, Pharfig, and everything was worse. He was grumpier than usual. His plans failed spectacularly. He couldn't focus on anything. For a moment he thought he was losing his head, without having a chance to identify the exact cause of his misery. And then, Pinky glued her photograph to the bars of the cage, and everything was crystal clear.

It was… hard. He was happy? ish? for his friend, who was chipper, if that was even possible, than usual. Pinky's happiness had always been contagious. And ok, maybe he looked cute when he smiled. And stupid. Don’t forget stupid.

He tried his best to pretend he was actually annoyed by his cagemate’s antics, and all that horse talk got in the way of their plans, affecting their dynamic; they were Pinky and Brain, not Pinky _and_ Pharfig _and_ Brain. That was too long, too unpleasant to read.

Of course he didn't like Pinky that way. They were friends. Not even that, they were roommates. Associates. Acquaintances. But friends? Alright, _maaaaybe_ . But more? _Good Tesla_ , no.

He didn’t think about relationships often, most of the time it wasn’t worth it. But he knew something; if he ever went into a relationship with another mouse, said creature had to be special (which Pinky _definitely_ was), intelligent (like that time inside the virtual maze when Pinky suggested imagining a map in front of the mindreading hologram machine. That was impressive), beautiful both inside and out (again, like Pinky always wearing his heart on his sleeve, and in general he looked good wearing long sleeves, long dresses, short dresses...), and… where was he going with this? Oh, drat. 

So he did what reasonable people do: he wrote down his feelings, in his typical laconic fashion:

_“I may have a chemical imbalance within me, triggered by the presence of my cagemate, Pinky. T h_ _e chemicals responsible for these feelings are dopamine and norepinephrine.”,_ he read them a few times, then burned them with a bunsen burner. Pinky thought he was roasting marshmallows, so they ate s'mores that evening. And Pinky thanked him with a hug that left him breathless for a second. (In his defense, it had been a tight hug. And… well, yes, that _other_ reason) 

He had always been proud of his logical thinking. Regardless, he was secretly hoping burning down his feelings would make them disappear. Instead, he was faced with a bitter truth:

He could coat his feelings with logic as much as he wanted, but those feelings weren’t going anywhere. 

There were some small advances, baby steps. He invited Pinky out one day, under the guise of “taking a break from taking over the world”, but perhaps his charade had been extremely convincing, curse his intelligence. He made Pinky wear female clothes, but had to stop when, confusingly, this just made the other mouse more alluring (or less alluring? Perhaps it was the exact same amount of allurement. There were still some tests to run in that regard. Anyways...) He got one quarter of an inch closer to his cagemate every night, when they were sleeping in the sponge bed they shared out of necessity, where sleeping was suddenly the last thing on his mind. According to his calculations, he would need two or three months approximately to almost be the “big” spoon. 

Were his advances too small to be noticed? He went through Hell and back to save him! He gave up the world on Christmas! For heaven's sake, he explicitly told his ex Pinky was his world! Did he really need to spell it out?! (Yes. Pinky's spelling abilities were poor, to say the least.)

And Pinky, oblivious to everything, was… very active in the romance department, once Pharfig was forgotten. Which also wasn't ideal. 

His life, at the moment, was a total mess. He wasn’t getting the world. His ex boyfriend sometimes dropped by, just to remind him that he owned half of it. His plans failed night after night. His cagemate sometimes left very late at night, after the plan, and returned very early in the morning, smelling of other creatures, and that was distressing and always made his stomach churn violently. His repressed feelings came out the only way they knew how: with migraines, stomach aches, painful tail twitches, anger. Lots of anger. 

He needed a victory. He needed to feel he had someone on his side. Ok, he was being unfair, of course Pinky was on his side. Of course Pinky loved him. Him… and everybody else.

Sometimes, at dawn, when Pinky arrived relatively early from his escapades, and he would pretend he was awake because he was studying or whatever, not because he was anxiously waiting for his cagemate to return, they’d lay down, staring at the ceiling, and Pinky would playfully ask him if he was pondering what Pinky was pondering (narf)

And his answer was always something sarcastic (I don’t think so, Pinky, if my mind tried to vacate itself to resemble yours, I’d probably get an aneurysm), but every single dawn the words itched to escape his throat, his hand itched to get closer to touch his cagemate’s hand, where inches felt like miles… 

So he decided to act. He wasn’t tempestuously telling Pinky what was on his mind, _dear Newton,_ no; he was a mouse of science, not feelings. He was certain science could do anything. So, instead of picking off the petals of a daisy, or tossing a coin, like any normal, ignorant creature would, he created a machine in the very little free time he got, a machine that would explore each and every outcome of his decisions. 

He told Pinky such machine would help him take the best decisions towards world domination, but once his cagemate got bored and left to watch TV, the machine was used for its original purpose:

To figure out what would happen if he confessed his feelings. 

In the end, his machine had only two possible outcomes: win or lose. 

So that was it. He had run virtual simulations to examine each and every possibility: the best case scenario being them ruling the World together, the worst one was Pinky rejecting him and leaving with Snowball. And that had already happened. So really, if the worst case scenario had already happened, and they were still there, and everything was back to normal, as if someone had pushed a button that reverted things to their status quo, then what was there to lose?

He walked towards his associate, his lab partner, his friend, his… _crush?_ Try as he might, he couldn't calm his heart pounding loudly. He reminded himself that fear is an instinctive reaction: fight or flight, but he was a sapient creature and he was above those residual instincts. 

Pinky, now that he thought of it, had been oddly quiet all morning. He sat at the edge of the cage, his feet dangling on the air, and his tail flicking at the same tempo. 

He cleared his throat, and the other mouse turned to face him, lifting his ears, reacting to Brain’s voice with that dumb, wonderful smile. That was a logical reaction, they were acquaintances. Less logical was the blush rushing to Brain’s ears.

“Oh, hi, Brain! Narf! Are you ready for tonight?” He asked 

“T--tonight?” He felt his mouth dry, and he tried to swallow. He hid his hands inside his pockets, so the other mouse wouldn’t notice they were shaking. _What_ was he thinking they were doing tonight?! And since when staring at Pinky was such an herculean task?

“Yeah, your plans and big funny words and whozits! Poit!” _Oh_. Of course. That.

He hadn’t planned anything for tomorrow night, as far as the world was concerned. He could take one idea from his log, a quick one. Maybe, if his current endeavor was successful, he could find a plan that involved going to Paris or Switzerland or…. Minnesota. For whatever reason, Pinky thought Minnesota was the most romantic place in the whole world; something about a big ball of yarn. Go figure. 

Then again, he shouldn’t be so optimistic. Things barely ever went his way. Really, the only constant good thing in his life was Pinky, and he was risking even that. If Pinky rejected him, that was the end of… well, everything.

Oh, dear Newton, why was he doing this again?

“Brain?” He flinched at his friend’s hand over his shoulder “You… spaced out a bit. Were you having fun with the stars and the balloons?” _What?_

He shook his head, pulling away from Pinky’s grasp. Too distracting.

“I’m fine, Pinky. I just need more time for tonight’s plan. First… I-- I need to tell you something” 

He took some air. He knew he was blushing, and he knew Pinky had noticed (he wasn’t stupid. Well, he was. But he was also observant), judging by his head tilted slightly to one side, one ear down, bright eyes curious and aware, the most peculiar shade of blue. _So cute._

Wait, focus, Brain. 

“Tell me what?” Pinky insisted. Oh god, he spaced out again. Was this normal? This shouldn't be normal. He couldn’t space out when he ruled the world, what if he unknowingly started a global war or something. He had to focus!

“Pinky, remember when you dated Pharfignewton? And when you went out with that… boa constrictor?” he shuddered. 

“Oh, Lucy, such good times! Zort” Pinky sighed dreamily.

_Good times_. Who knows what would have happened if Brain hadn't been around with a mallet. 

“She tried to eat you”

“Well, romance isn’t dead, Brain!” 

“Perhaps, but you almost were. Regardless, remember what I’d tell you?”

“Oh, yes! _I am The Brain, the grump with the chubby head! Bla, bla, bla, big word, you need a mousey date, Pinky, it's dangerous to date a boa constrictor, Pinky, that’s not natural, Pinky, grumble grumble!_ Zort!” Pinky laughed of his poor imitation of his cagemate, who at this point wasn't sure if his blush was caused by anger or embarrassment.

“I don’t grumble all the time!” Brain grumbled. “But yes. Pinky, about that--”

“I have dated mice! There was Mel” Pinky counted with his fingers “And maybe Billie? I don’t wanna count her, poit, but--”

“Forget Billie” Brain interrupted “And Mel doesn’t count. He…” He was too genetically altered, but also them. “He... just doesn’t”

“Well, if they don’t count, and they are mice, who else could I ever date? Zort!” Pinky asked, and chuckled “I mean, Mrs. Fluff is practically a mouse herself, but the last time I spoke to her she rejected me, so…” He trailed off.

Yes, but Mrs. Fluff, an aberration made of the fur they shed and some lint, wasn’t really a mouse.

“That’s precisely what I need to tell you, Pinky. I--” 

He had his speech rehearsed and everything. He was gonna talk about the tests he ran on himself, and the results of those tests; how his oxytocin and vasopressin levels spiked when he thought of Pinky, and the meaning behind those results. He was gonna elaborate on Plato’s definition of love. Perhaps, if things went well, he could even explain why his favorite theory reminded him of Pinky so much (it was, after all, Lorenz’ Chaos Theory), but that was, in his opinion, a little bit too sappy. Then again, what if _at least_ this plan worked?

For a change?

Before he finished mustering the courage needed for the next step, Pinky covered Brain’s mouth.

“Shh! Look, Brain, here she comes!” Pinky said excitedly.

_She?_ He wanted to ask, but it came out as a muffled sound. He followed Pinky’s other hand, pointing...

Towards a big, blobby, gray sea lion, who was led to a criminally small swimming pool by one of the researchers of the lab. 

Pinky clasped his hands together and twirled, sighing dreamily 

“Oh, isn’t she beautiful? Her name is Winnie! Troz!” They could hear her barking in the background while a scientist gave her fish. 

“That’s a sea lion--” Brain began, but didn't bother to continue.

“Yeah! Isn’t that romantic? Troz!” Pinky gasped “Maybe you can get a mousy date and we can all go to a fancy restaurant together! Like Denny 's! They put scoops of butter over pancakes, all lavish and nice!” 

Brain snorted, though that could have been a sob. Look who’s talking about mousy dates now.

“There’s no way they’ll let a sea lion inside a Denny’s, Pinky”

“People are so intolerant! Oh Brain, can we go and play with her? Oh, how I wish I could speak to her!” Pinky sighed and fell to the ground, his ears expressively tilting down.

How could a mouse change his mood so suddenly was beyond him. That was just another one of Pinky’s mysteries he longed to solve. 

Still, he hated to see him sad.

Knowing he’d regret everything from now on, especially if this was _the_ night his plan finally worked out, he cautiously patted his friend in the back (the same back he’d stare at all night, wondering if this would be the night Pinky would finally fall asleep facing him, the same back he didn’t dare to touch, at least not when they were trying to sleep, at least not when it felt too intimate...), in a lousy attempt to comfort him.

Partly hating himself, and partly amused by his capacity for coming up with an idea so quickly, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the familiar pain on his chest, he finally spoke

“Actually, Pinky, we’re gonna need Winnie’s assistance for tonight’s plan to take over the world.” he said, despite himself. He barely heard Pinky’s gleeful scream over his own heart painfully beating on his chest and his head. 

Let's pretend, though, there was no pain. Only the pain of Pinky’s overly enthusiastic hug. And no, Pinky’s scent, mixed with the salty smell of the pool nearby didn’t make him dizzy. And no, he didn’t need a mousy date. He didn’t need anyone. He was perfectly fine all by himself. One day he’d rule the world, and world leaders needed to be emotionless, cold.

He could do that, he thought, leaning his cheek over Pinky’s shoulder, so his nose was closer to the crook of the other mouse's neck, his movements so subtle, not even Pinky noticed (and if he did, he didn't say anything). 

He could be cold, emotionless, he decided, burying his face in his friend’s fur. 

Yeah, he didn’t need anyone.


	2. Epilogue

_Let's pretend, though, there was no pain. Only the pain of Pinky’s overly enthusiastic hug. And no, Pinky’s scent, mixed with the salty smell of the pool nearby didn’t make him dizzy. And no, he didn’t need a mousy date. He didn’t need anyone. He was perfectly fine all by himself. One day he’d rule the world, and world leaders needed to be emotionless, cold._

_He could do that, he thought, leaning his cheek over Pinky’s shoulder, so his nose was closer to the crook of the other mouse's neck, his movements so subtle, not even Pinky noticed (and if he did, he didn't say anything)._

_He could be cold, emotionless, he decided, burying his face in his friend's fur._

_Yeah, he didn’t need anyone._

“Brain? Are you… crying?” _Drat._

Oh drat. Drat, drat, drat! Had he been too loud? Pinky had stopped hugging him, and now held him by his shoulders, bending a little so they were at the same level. Oh, how he hated that look of pity in those bright blue eyes. He didn’t want anyone to worry about him. He wanted to be self sufficient. Cold. Emotionless.

He sobbed, and stared to the ground, where his tears had started to puddle. 

“I’m” _sniff_ “fine, Pinky. It’s--” the realization that his unrequited love was… well, hopeless. The situation was hopeless. His whole life, really ”...Nothing” 

He looked down. Nothing in this world would make him raise his head. Nothing, except for Pinky’s hands gently cupping his face and lifting his head, forcing him to stare at those darned compassionate eyes. 

“You can’t be crying over nothing, mister! That’s too…” Too philosophically complex for him to grasp. “Naarf” But that would do. 

It was those darn eyes. And that stupid sea lion, still barking on the background. And his failures piling up, like his tears, one after the other. And who knows what else. Regardless, all of that built up inside him, the words itching on his throat easily slipping out:

“Pinky, I… I love you” He didn’t look up, so he didn’t see his cagemate raising his eyebrows and letting his mouth drop open.

“Uhhh... come again? _poit_ ” was all that Pinky could say after a while, and frustration, as usual, led the way to anger. He snapped away from the taller mouse’s grip. 

“Are you really that stupid to not understand those three simple words?! How could you, Pinky?!” Oh no, anger was leading its way to… more frustration? How much more frustration could fit inside his dinky body? (Spoiler alert: A Fuckton) “You… you even dated a snake! A snake, before even considering me? Am I really that… unappealing to you? A--and now a sea lion?!” 

He stopped to gasp for air. His cagemate looked ready to run away, or send him to a mental ward. See, this is why he repressed his emotions. Nothing good comes out of emptying a can of worms.

“Brain, I didn’t…” Pinky stopped, trying to find the correct words in the bubblegum and cotton candy mess he had for a brain. “I didn’t _know._ Poit! How did you expect me to…?” He trailed off, Winnie was still barking in the background, and surprisingly for everyone, Pinky quickly glared at her, wishing she’d just shut up. 

There were too many noises inside his head. Like a war between gummy bears and lollipops. 

He didn’t bother finishing his question about Brain’s expectations, he grabbed the smaller mouse, lifted him to his level and--

Oh. He kissed him.

Still carrying the smaller mouse, Pinky stumbled (walking with his eyes closed, while still kissing his partner was a feat after all) towards the sponge they shared out of necessity (not anymore), where for the first time they _wouldn't_ actually sleep in, and carefully placed his associate , his companion, his friend, his… _lover?_ over it, before climbing on top. 

And Brain could finally scratch that other itch, and hold his cagemate’s hands. And after his hands, the rest of his body followed suit, finally getting the chance to run his fingers across that back, even clawing it when his senses were too overwhelmed by what followed. 

  
His calculations had been mistaken (and for once, that was a marvelous mistake): It didn’t take two or three months; just mere seconds, for the space between them to go from dozens of quarters of an inch, to... zero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know either


End file.
